


Sweet Kisses and Dirty Dancing

by ashisfriendly



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dancing, F/M, Short & Sweet, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU || Ben is dreading staying in Pawnee as he goes to college, but he's not the only one sticking around and it may help turn his attitude -- and life -- around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Kisses and Dirty Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this cute, silly thing! Inspired by this [post](http://ashishorny.tumblr.com/post/150054629690/shutuprosa-imagine-its-2am-were-making).

Ben’s falling asleep. 

His eyes are heavy and his body is that warm, numb that comes right before sleep. Leslie really wanted him to watch the entirety of Dirty Dancing so he’s awake. It’s not that he’s not interested in the movie, or Leslie’s pleas to finally see, “one of the best films in all of cinematic history, Ben!”, but he’s tired. They spent the last four hours studying, passing back laptops to edit essays, and drinking more coffee than should be allowed for human consumption. They both have class in the morning (10 for him, 9 for her), yet here they are watching Dirty Dancing at two in the morning.

This is what they do. They do this now.

They torture themselves by staying up late, studying too much, turning brains into mush until Ben collapses and Leslie has to revive him with more coffee or snickerdoodle cookies. She now keeps her mom’s fridge loaded with Pepsi for him. He repays her by bringing candy or buying pizza. 

In high school, they never really talked to each other, but now, after a year of college, they take up residency at Leslie’s house, her mom filtering in and out and offering to buy Chinese take-out or making Leslie’s dad’s famous lasagna. Last year, Ben even spent Thanksgiving here.

Ben’s eyes flicker open.

“Are you crying?” 

Leslie shakes her head, biting her lip.

“You’re crying.”

“It’s just, he left. He just leaves. He shouldn’t do that. He thinks it’s for the best, but it’s not. They love each other.”

Ben doesn’t have it in his heart to tell her that Johnny’s way too old for Baby anyway, and that maybe her dad has a point about all this. So he forces himself up and pats Leslie gently on the shoulder instead.

“Men are dogs,” Ben says, echoing Leslie’s words from that time a while back when Ann got dumped. “And I’m sure he comes back?”

Leslie nods, sniffling. She wipes her eyes and leans into his touch, falling into him. She’s warm, she’s always warm, and he slides his hand across her shoulders, bringing her close.

“He does come back.”

“Then, no crying.”

Leslie smiles, turning to look at Ben. Their faces are close, closer than usual, even though Leslie’s been known to put her legs on his lap and he’s been known to rub her ankles, but their faces? They don’t get this close unless Ben is trying to rework an opening sentence and they’re crouched in front of his computer.

Leslie blinks her glassy, blue eyes and turns back to the screen.

“He’s going to come back soon.”

They don’t readjust, just stay there, cuddled close to each other until Leslie claps for the big lift in the ending dance scene and Ben’s heart swells a little, that rush of adrenaline from something big and happy filling him completely.

After the credits roll, Ben yawns, stretching as he stands. 

“I should go.”

“No, but I’m hungry.”

Ben laughs, eyebrows shooting up.

“We just ate two bags of popcorn.”

“I know, now I need something sweet,” Leslie says, springing up from the couch like she hasn’t been up since five this morning.

Ben used to get eight hours of sleep, sometimes even more. He used to sleep a lot. When he was in high school, and the summer after he graduated, he slept like a normal person. But, sometime after he started college, commuting all the way to campus and hurrying home to pick up Stephanie when he could and take her to whatever activity she had that afternoon, he started to feel like a loser. A loser who stayed in Pawnee while everyone else went off to college.

It wasn’t that he was the only one here. There were others that stayed in Pawnee, but no one Ben was friends with. No one Ben wanted to be like, frankly.

But there was Leslie. 

Leslie who taught Stephanie’s swim class the summer after they graduated. Leslie who passed out popsicles on the last day of class, September creeping up on him with the promise of over priced textbooks and cranky professors. She offered Ben a popsicle and they talked in that awkward way people talk when you never really knew someone, yet you spent the last four years occupying the same halls as them. Eating the same bad food, having the same teachers, sitting through the same Don’t Drink and Drive assemblies, like a weird shared experience that still feels completely personal somehow.

“When are you leaving?” Ben asked her, surprised she was still around. A lot of people had left by then.

Her eyebrows knitted together a little, her chin popping up in wonder. The sun hit her blue eyes and she squinted. That squint... it was ridiculously cute. Leslie Knope was cute.

“Leaving for…?”

“College?”

“Oh!” Leslie rolled her eyes, swaying a bit. “Yes, I mean, well, I’m staying here, but I start on Monday. At Bloomington. You know, save money, help my mom.”

“Oh, cool,” Ben said, nodding, something light forming in his chest. He told people the same thing, using the excuse of helping to take care of his sister and save money. But Leslie didn’t say it like an excuse or as if these were burdens. She said it happily. “Me too.”

Now, he’s in her kitchen, like he’s been on many nights, watching her dig through her cupboards for something sweet. Leslie likes sweet things, almost to a worrying degree. She eats M&Ms while they study and makes him order insane sweet caramel chocolate whatever the hell coffee drinks when he makes a pit stop at Starbucks before getting to her house. But she’s also ambitious and strong and takes pride in every little thing she does, and every little thing _he_ does, and it’s intoxicating.

He isn’t sure why she keeps him around, though. She’s said on more than one occasion that he’s, “kind of a fuddy duddy,” but Ben isn’t going to bring it up. He’s selfish enough to just be swept up in her and let her figure out his downfalls on her own.

“I always wanted to be a dancer,” Leslie says, spinning away from the cabinet, a tub of icing in her hand. She walks to the silverware drawer and takes out a single spoon. “I took ballet when I was four and stuck with it until I was seven. Madame Bombet said my turnout was terrible so I never went back.”

“That’s mean,” Ben says, leaning his hip against the counter. 

“Eh, I’m going to be president so she can shove it.” 

Leslie sticks out her tongue as if Madame Bombet is here. She pops open the tub, sticking the spoon right in the middle and scooping out a glob of vanilla icing. 

“Good Lord,” Ben laughs, “take it easy.”

She shoves the spoon into her mouth and then bops him on the nose with it. She licks the icing off her lips as she swallows, making all kinds of explosions go off inside him as if his body is a Leslie-triggered minefield. 

“I mean,” Leslie says, licking her spoon after another bite. “I’m not a terrible dancer.” Leslie smiles to herself as she digs another spoonful of icing. “I’m not like you.”

“Hey, now.” Ben laughs. “I’m a good dancer.”

Leslie cackles, a spoonful of icing dangling in her hand. Ben grabs it because he thinks she might drop it, but then he just takes the bite. It’s incredibly sweet and Ben thinks it’s insane to eat icing straight, but he does it anyway. He’s not sure why.

Ben plucks the spoon back into the icing tub and Leslie bites her lip, staring at the counter. She finally moves, running to the living room and returning with her phone.

“Let’s see some sweet dance moves then, Wyatt,” she says, grinning down at her phone. 

“Okay, Knope.”

Ben doesn’t feel tired anymore and apparently he doesn’t feel self conscious anymore either, because when Leslie starts a song, he starts to move.

Or dance. Perhaps something resembling dancing. Her phone isn’t that loud, but she is, her laughter filling the kitchen. He considers telling her to be quiet for Marlene’s sake, but he’s too busy trying to get his hands to move and his hips to shake and any other resemblance of dancing he can think of. It should be easy, he just saw a movie with a lot of dancing in it.

Leslie keeps laughing, sticking her finger in the icing and licking it clean. Ben doesn’t mean to, but he reaches for her then, something hot coursing through him at the sight of her. She’s short, so incredibly short, and her golden hair is piled on top of her head in an adorable mess. Her t-shirt is too big and she’s wearing rainbow pajama pants that cover her feet when she stands. She smiles, shaking her shoulders as he grabs her hand, and somehow, they begin to dance together.

If you can call it dancing. He’s holding her hand and spinning her, and her hips are swaying and his are trying, man are they really trying, to match hers. She laughs when he experiments with some strange leg move and he keeps doing it just to hear her laughter.

“This isn’t good?”

She snorts and then cackles and Ben pulls her in, putting a finger over his lips.

“Shh, your mom is sleeping.”

He didn’t mean to, but he’s pulled her so their bodies are pressed together. He can feel her chest expand against him as she inhales and he’s so close that he notices the slight widening of her eyes. It’s quiet now, her laughter completely gone as the song fades out.

“Um,” Leslie says, blinking. 

Ben considers moving away, lowering his finger from his lips, or anything at all, but then the music starts again. This song is slower, something that was popular a couple years ago; it definitely played at prom.

He took Cindy Eckert to prom. He should’ve taken Leslie.

Ben finally moves, sliding his hands around her waist, wrapping his arms around her. He watches her through this, taking his time, waiting for her to ask him to stop, to ask what he’s doing, to laugh again. She doesn’t. Instead, she brings her hands up to rest on his shoulders, leaning her head against his chest.

Fuck. He _really_ should’ve taken Leslie to prom. 

But he didn’t know her then. He didn’t know the girl who ran for student council president beyond her colorful campaign posters and the brownies her friends passed out in the halls, VOTE FOR KNOPE buttons on their shirts. They had gym together his freshman year, right after he moved to Pawnee, but he only remembers whispering, “Good Lord,” after she yelled at some poor kid after she lost a game of dodgeball.

He didn’t know she would be his life. School, taking care of Stephanie, Leslie. That’s it for him. There’s no way he could’ve known that he’d be drowning in candy and the smell of vanilla and text books. That Leslie would tease him about his favorite Batman villains or that she would say things that would catch his soul on fire like, “I would die without you.” It was usually about him bringing her diabetes inducing coffee or explaining algebra, but it still made his world turn upside down.

Leslie fits so well against him. They’re swaying, and her fingers are playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. He hums, holding her tighter, and she nuzzles into his neck. The need for sleep is creeping into him again, Leslie’s body warm and comfortable, and the music soft, he wants to stay like this forever; sleep and dream of this. 

He closes his eyes and it amplifies the shape of her against him. Her knees hit his, sometimes their feet touch, and her hips move just a little more than his, making the softest friction between them that is just enough to warm him from the inside out. 

The music ends and Leslie stiffens against him, as if a spell has been broken. It snaps Ben out of his sleepy, warm haze and he springs back.

They stare at each other, the rumble of the refrigerator greeting them again as the songs change. When a new song starts, Leslie blinks, and turns it off.

The quiet stretches, almost unbearable, as Ben’s mind races. This is all very new for them. They don’t slow dance in her kitchen, they don’t have tension crisscrossing between them, they don’t spend minutes staring at each other, unknowing. 

His hands shake as he takes her in. Her lips twitch as if she’s trying to speak, but nothing comes out. Her hands come together in front of her and he misses them, misses her, even though she’s right there. 

“Ben--”

Leslie’s words get stuck in her throat as he moves. His hands touch her first, sliding into her hair, and pulling her up to him. She makes the smallest sound before their lips connect and it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.

His fingers curl into the strands of her hair as her lips part, the sweet taste of icing filling his mouth. Relief envelopes him. She’s kissing him back. She’s gripping his t-shirt, pulling him closer as if there’s any space left between them. He stumbles forward, bending down, and they both laugh. He tries to keep kissing her, but the laughter is stronger, turning their deep, desperate kisses into small peppering ones between giggles and teeth. 

Ben slides his hands away from her hair and picks her up, Leslie’s legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Woah,” Leslie breathes.

Ben bites down on her bottom lip and the kissing shifts again. He holds her, walking until her back hits a wall. He’s pressing his body into her as she pulls at his shirt. It’s hard to keep up with her. She’s enthusiastic and big even though her body is so small, wrapped around him, clinging to him, like she was made to be there. He’s steady, trying to slow her down, savor every moment of this, and she finally does, breathing deep and sighing when his lips move to her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

Leslie’s body softens, her legs unwrapping from his waist, sliding down the wall until her feet touch the kitchen floor. She melts into him, moaning when his tongue circles her pulse point, gasping when he bites her skin. Ben travels back up to her lips, giving her a few soft kisses before he pulls back.

Leslie pushes up on her tiptoes and kisses him again and he follows her back down, his forehead resting on hers as they both smile at each other. He catches his breath and tries to think of something to say, but nothing comes to him, nothing that’s right. 

He wishes he knew her sooner, wishes he told her he liked how she got so revved up during gym class, how he voted her for student council president even though she lost. He wishes he kissed her sooner, like the first night they studied together and she made him snickerdoodles afterward and she had flour on her cheek and something started stirring in his chest.

He has a lot of time to make up for.

“Was that okay?” Ben asks.

Leslie nods, giggling. “Yes. Very okay.”

“Good.”

Ben slides his hands over her torso, along her sides, over her hips, up her stomach and around her breasts to her shoulders. He presses his thumbs a little harder against her skin when his hands travel over her neck. Leslie closes her eyes, her body swaying to follow his touch. 

“It’s late,” Ben says. 

Leslie nods as his fingers catch under her shirt and it lifts as he moves over her stomach again. Her bra is pink and he wants to see more of it, but they’re in her kitchen and her mom is sleeping upstairs.

“You should stay over,” Leslie says, opening her eyes.

“Yeah?” 

Ben lowers her shirt and kisses her forehead. He’s warm and heavy, sleep really trying to take over even though all he wants to do is be buried in Leslie. 

She nods and grabs his hand, walking with him to turn off the lights in the kitchen, the living room, the TV. She takes him up to her room, yawning as she walks up the stairs. Ben’s sure he’s never seen her yawn.

Leslie takes off her socks and Ben wonders if he’s supposed to sleep in here, if Marlene will care that he’s going to sleep in her room. His nerves get the best of him, his hands shaking, eyes darting to the door as he tries to ask her if he should leave.

He takes a step toward the door, mumbling something about a guest room, when Leslie says his name.

“Where are you going?”

Leslie hooks her fingers into the waistband of her rainbow pajama pants and pushes them down her short, pale legs. His throat closes and his hand falls from the doorknob. 

Ben clears his throat and Leslie brightens as he walks toward her.

“Nowhere.”


End file.
